Mafiafoy
by trellyasigma
Summary: Draco Malfoy promised his obedience to Tom Riddle, the leader of an infamous crime cult, at age seven, but after he runs away in an attempt to find a new life, he finds himself in the town with the headquarters for Riddle's archenemy; the Order of the Phoenix, a gang led by the strange Albus Dumbledore. Has he accidentally started a war between the gangs? Non-magical modern AU.
1. Prologue

Prologue

In a small, richly decorated child's room, colored entirely in dark greys, silvers, and blacks, sat a very small, very pale boy with white blonde hair and bright grey eyes. He was the most cheerful thing in the room, giggling as he played. At this point in the boy's life, he was seven years old, and nothing had happened yet to take away the smile from his pale cheeks. Unbeknownst to him, this was the day that planted the seed that made the light in his eyes fade. But currently, the child was still happy, still shining like a star in the world of silver and grey that was his home.

"Draco." Said a cold, thin voice from the dark wooden entrance to the room.

Instantly, the smile faded from the child's face. He turned to the figure, his face sliding into an expressionless, emotionless mask. "Yes, Father?" His voice was now cold and uncaring, very much like his father's, with none of the childish joy he'd previously expressed.

The man stepped out of the shadows. He was quite tall and thin, with high cheekbones and a permanent sneer on his face. He was clearly the boy's— Draco's— father, as he had the same white blonde hair and grey eyes, though his hair stretched down to the center of his back, and his eyes had none of their son's brightness. "I need you to follow me."

Draco had been told constantly that obedience was his only job in life. Whoever he was following at the time would always know what was best for him, and so he should do as he was told. The little boy had followed this commandment down to the "t," and never once had be disobeyed. He'd considered it, true, but he figured that his parents' teachings were true. They had no reason to lie to him.

All the same, something about the tone of his father's voice struck a note of fear in the boy's stomach. He had a terrible feeling that whatever was about to happen wouldn't be good. Most would cast off this premonition as the whims of a child, but Draco had always had an uncanny ability to sense bad things before they happened. It was no special power, but it was certainly something real.

After a moment's hesitation, the boy got to his feet and took his usual place by his father's side. No matter what he might be feeling currently, his father wouldn't take no for an answer. The tall, cold man nodded curtly in approval at the obedience and turned to leave the room. "Come, Draco; we have places to be, and I have a story to tell you."

This intrigued the boy, as he had no previous recollection of his father telling his stories. That was always his mother; she was the more affectionate one, and the one who was around most often. "What's it about, Father?" Draco asked, careful to keep his voice level. His father didn't like hearing too much emotion in his son's voice, so he'd learned how to drain all feeling from it.

His father roughly grabbed the boy's hand and began to slowly lead him through the halls. Then he began his story in a distant fashion that fit his demeanor perfectly.

 _Many years ago, the man, whose name was Lucius Malfoy, worked as the manager of a rather large and prosperous bank. When he first began working there, he thought that the establishment was entirely honest, but as he was rapidly promoted, he realized that there were some shady dealings that he hadn't noticed at first._

 _For example, the matter of this "Tom Riddle" fellow. He wasn't technically in their systems, nor was he technically under a loan, and yet thousands upon thousands of dollars were going to the man each month. Lucius wasn't a good man, but he was a loyal one. He began to slowly cut off the funds to the man, figuring he didn't deserve the money anyway._

 _Once the income had been cut in half, Lucius decided to leave it be. He didn't want to stop giving him money completely- he didn't want to make enemies- but he hoped the reduced money would cripple Riddle in whatever his plans were. Apparently, this scheme worked, for one day Tom Riddle paid him a visit._

 _Lucius was at his desk, filling out some paperwork, when he noticed the shadow of someone standing over him. "Excuse me, sir, but are you allowed to be in here?" He asked politely, before looking up. His gaze was met with that of a very tall, handsome man with dark eyes and pitch black hair. "I'm sorry, but who are you?"_

 _"My name is Tom Riddle." Said the man in a very cold voice. It was a little higher-pitched than he'd expected, but still terrifying. "Are you the one who has been reducing my income?"_

 _The bank's manager winced and straightened, trying to not look terrified. "Yes. Well, I'm really sorry about that, but you see-" Lucius cut off as Riddle pulled a gun on him._

 _"I'm going to give you two options. Either you can give me my money back, and double the amount I got originally, and promise to do whatever I tell you from this point on until death do us part," the last part being said in a particularly sarcastic tone, "or I can kill you right now. Understood?"_

 _Lucius, though he was an honest man, valued his life and livelyhood more than his principles. "I will pledge my eternal loyalty to your cause right now." He said with only a moment of hesitation. "Just after I give you that pay raise."_

 _Riddle appeared to be pleased at the man's attitude. "Good. Lucius Malfoy, I am pleased to be your new master."_

Draco frowned. He wasn't sure he liked this story. "You joined the bad man with the gun?"

His father straightened and glared at his son. "No, Draco, I joined the _good_ man with a vision for the world. I have never regretted joining his cause, and I know I never will."

"Oh." He must have interpreted the story wrong, then, to think that Tom Riddle was bad. His father was always right, he knew this, and always knew what was best for him. "But why does it matter?"

Lucius's face twisted into a chilling smile. "It matters, Draco, because my Lord is here tonight. He would like to meet you, and prepare you for your initiation upon your coming of age."

"Father, I don't understand." Draco said, biting his lip. Something about this whole situation scared him, but he didn't know what. "What initiation?"

His father chuckled softly and ran a hand through his son's blonde hair. It was an uncharacteristically loving gesture, and it made the hair on the back of the boy's neck stand on end. "You'll see, Draco. I promise, it will be a good thing."

This reasurance made his muscles relax. His father never lied. He knew this. He trusted this. And even more importantly, he _never_ broke his promises. "Okay, Father. What do I need to do?"

"Nothing." Lucius said, his voice suddenly back to its normal cold, emotionless tone. "My Lord will take care of everything." They were by the large, dark, wooden double doors to the formal dining room. Draco had seen them before, but he'd never been allowed to enter. This thought made his stomach drop in apprehension, and he began to fidget with his clothes, his heart pouding in his chest.

His father noticed, and placed his hands heavily on his son's shoulders. Instantly, the flurry of small movements ceased, leaving a boy who was very clearly struggling to contain his nervous fear. The long-haired man nodded curtly at the men by the large doors, and they open without a sound.

It was a long, dark room, made of the same dark wood found throughout the house, and the only source of light was the large lit fireplace at the end of the room. Because of this, it was impossible to see what the man sitting in the armchair looked like. He was tall enough that a large portion of his head stuck over the top of the chair, but the rest of his features were hidden in darkness. Suddenly, there was a tiny spark- a lighter- and something, presumably a cigar, began to smolder. The man did not raise the cigar to his lips, but rather held it between his fingers, and simply watched.

After a long moment of silence, the man- Riddle- spoke. "So we meet at last, Draco Lucius Malfoy. Your father took his time in getting you." His voice was high-pitched and raspy, with a deadly tone to it. "Tell me; do you know anything about who we are, and what we do?"

"No, sir." Draco said quietly, looking down at the ground, the beginnings of tears burning in his eyes. He didn't like this man; he wanted to go back to his room and pretend none of this ever happened.

"Hmm." Riddle raised the cigar to his lips and puffed. He breathed out with a raspy sigh, and a curl of grey smoke left his lips. "Well, then, I must fill this… _gap_ in your education."

Suddenly, Lucius stepped forward, looking a little pale, his hands wringing themselves desperately. "My Lord, I did not mean to deprive him of this important knowledge. I simply thought to wait until he was older. I-"

 _"Silence!"_ Snarled the man as he slammed his free hand on the table, making a surprisingly loud thud. "I do not wish to hear your excuses at this time, Lucius. I will deal with your disappointment later. For now, I must tend to your son, and you are _not_ to interrupt me, _am I understood?"_ His voice was only a hair below yelling now, and Draco's eyes were huge with fear.

"Yes, my Lord." Said his father in a much quieter, submissive voice, and he took a few steps back, leaving Draco alone at the end of the table. He looked around the room, trying to find a way out, before giving up and standing up a little straighter. If he couldn't get out, he'd at least be dignified.

Riddle noticed this and chuckled softly, his breath hissing through his teeth. "Good. You have strength, little Malfoy, and far more bravery than your father ever had. I believe you could be of some use to me, once you've grown." Though normally such words would fill someone with pride and hope, these cold icy knives only made him want to flinch, though he held back the best he could. "Now…" He sucked in on his cigar once more, and let another smoke ring leave his shadowed lips.

"Most would call me a villain, or a criminal. I rather resent the term. What one man calls a criminal, another calls a visionary. And that is what I am. A visionary." Riddle laughed, and set down his cigar on the table, ignoring the crystal ash tray in front of him. Behind his son, Lucius winced as the hot ash fell on the fine table, but stayed silent. "Nott- a drink, please." The man in the corner of the room, who Draco hadn't noticed before, rushed forward holding a bottle of some sort of liquor. "You are dismissed." He said as soon as the glass had been poured, and Nott fell back into the shadows.

Riddle took a small sip and proceeded to hold the glass in front of him, swirling the contents slightly. "Now, where was I… ah, yes, a visionary. These days, everyone is obsessed with what they call 'equality.' Everyone is equal, and should be treated so. But my followers and I, we know the truth. There are certain people who are far superior to others, and as those at the top, it is our job to eliminate those who are lesser. Do you understand, Draco?"

He did. He might be only seven years old, but he knew what- and who- Riddle was talking about. His father had told him thousands of times that anyone 'whose ethnicity was not caucasian,' as Lucius so delicately put it, should not be allowed to live in the United Kingdom. Personally, Draco didn't see how they were so bad or different, but he knew better than to argue with his parents or point this out.

So, despite his own personal doubts of the truth of these values, Draco nodded. Riddle leaned forward slightly. "I trust Lucius hasn't left _this_ part of your education for a more suitable age?" He said with a sneer. Draco shrunk into himself as his father began frantically telling his master how his son was well-versed in white supremecy **(Author's note: even typing this is making me want to throw up ugh)**. Riddle listened for a while, his body language showing his amusement, before calmly speaking. "That is enough, Lucius. I am pleased that you have not failed in this aspect of the boy's education. Now, Draco, you already know of the lesser peoples of which we speak. I trust you can infer the rest for yourself?"

Sensing the man wanted a reply, Draco looked straight at where he judged Riddle's face to be. "Yes, sir. I can."

"You have guts, boy." Riddle laughed, taking another sip of the liquor in his fine crystal glass. "I cannot wait until your final oath. You will be a powerful follower. Is that prediction correct, Draco Malfoy?" Riddle's amused voice fell back into its more threatening range, the rasp becoming far more obvious. "When the time comes, will you obey me?"

Draco wanted to run away. He was too young for this. Couldn't he wait, enjoy his childhood a little longer before its brutal murder? But no. He had to answer, and there was really only one option. He was a boy whose only job was to do as he was told, no matter who it was, and that included this terrifying man in front of him.

"Yes." He said, his voice shaking only slightly, his body wanting to run and stay at the same time. "I will."

Riddle laughed, a high-pitched, chilling sound that made everyone in the room flinch instinctively. He waved his hand, and Nott reappeared out of the corner to take Draco and Lucius out of the room. Lucius looked relieved, as though his worst fears had been wiped away, but Draco had lost all the fire and light from his eyes. No longer were they a bright, happy grey, and no longer was his face struggling to keep its emotionless mask. It was as though Riddle had taken the boy's soul rather than his alligiance.

And as Draco entered his room, filled with the usual toys of a seven-year-old, he knew deep down that he'd almost certainly never get that sweet happiness ever again.

 **Hey, guys, Author here!**

 **So here's the prologue for the non-magical Mafia AU I came up with the idea for like two days ago.**

 **Two things:**

 **ONE I don't have to give up my school computer, as my parents bought it. So updates still this summer, even if they will be fairly infrequent.**

 **TWO I absolutely adore this story idea so expect many smaller updates instead of fewer large ones. I hope that's okay with everyone.**

 **Trellya**


	2. Chapter One: Train Ride

Almost eleven years later, that small blond boy, now a fully grown young man, was sitting on a train, his clothes muddied and torn, and his face covered in blood, though most of it was not his own. To the people surrounding him, his appearance was frightening enough that they were leaving him alone, and the mothers were holding their children firmly by the hand so they didn't interact with someone of the 'wrong sort.'

Glumly to himself, Draco thought that he most definitely was of the wrong sort, and that they were right to stay away from him. After all, he was the son of a major member of the most powerful- and feared- crime cult in London. The Death Eaters, people called them, due to their high number of victims. Surely, said the general population, the only reason they killed so many was because they fed on the death. Honestly, Draco wished that were the case. If that were so, it would give them at least a shadow of an excuse for the senseless murder.

He winced as the memories began to force themselves to the surface reminding him of how he'd ended up on a train headed for Scotland, on the run, covered in blood and dirt.

 _It was the day before his eighteenth birthday, and Draco was sitting in the kitchen , eating the breakfast the maid had cooked him. Normally he would have enjoyed it, but today the meal tasted like chalk in his mouth. Today was the last day of 'freedom' he had left before he gave himself up to the life that their 'Lord' Tom Riddle demanded of them._

 _"Draco, come. We must find you some robes to wear to the ceremony tonight." Said his father from the doorway. He was wearing his usual crisp grey suit, his long blond hair contrasting nicely. In his right hand he held a walking stick with a silver snake's head 0n the top. He'd been injured during one of his 'missions' when Draco was ten. Lucius had had a limp ever since, though it was less obvious after years of getting used to it._

 _Draco frowned as he stood. "Robes? This isn't the medieval times, Father. I fail to see why I cannot simply wear a suit."_

 _Lucius' s lips pursed in displeasure. He waited for his son to reach him before starting down the hallway at a rapid pace. "You know better than to talk back, Draco. While I may not punish you for such an infraction of obedience, my Lord Riddle will not take to it so kindly."_

 _Draco winced, and said no more as they marched through the maze of halls that was Malfoy Manor._

After that fateful night eleven years ago, when the small, cheerful boy who lit up the room when he entered vanished forever, a new, colder Draco was born. This one was very much like his father. He did not smile. He showed no emotion. And most importantly, he did not obey. After meeting Lord Riddle in the dining hall, Draco Malfoy realized that any thoughts of rebellion were quite useless. After all, he'd promised Riddle that he'd do what he was told, and Malfoys do not break their promises easily.

His mother, Narcissa, was shocked to wake up the next morning and see the light gone from her son's eyes. At first, she tried to get it back, but after he curtly told her one morning at the age of nine that he had decided to throw out all his toys (they weren't practical), Narcissa Malfoy gave up. She resigned herself to the fact that her son had fallen to the strange power of the man who was sometimes reverently called the Dark Lord, just as her husband had all those years ago.

 _Draco stared at the robes he wore around him, feeling slightly uncomfortable with their looseness. Once he'd turned ten, he'd worn nothing but neat, expensive suits— wearing anything else felt foreign and strange._

 _"At the ceremony tonight, you must keep calm." His father was saying. "You will be nervous, and probably scared, but I trust you can do it if you put your mind to it. Remember, I was able to, and I, as my Lord often reminds me, am a coward."_

 _Something about the way his father was phrasing his sentences didn't sit quite right with Draco. "I thought it was just me giving an oath and being given the Final Mark. Why should I be frightened of that?"_

 _Slowly, Lucius's face drained of a little color._

The Mark.

Its official name was the Dark Mark, but rarely was it called by its full title. It was the image of a skull with a snake exiting the mouth, tying itself in knots. Not long after that fateful night where everything changed, the Malfoys had recieved orders that Draco was going to recieve the first of the three traditional Marks, the one over his heart. To 'remind him of his commitment,' the message said in neat lettering. The next day, the official tattooer of the Followers (what they prefered to call themselves rather than 'Death Eaters'), a short man with watery eyes called Wormtail by everyone, arrived at their house.

Wormtail was despised by all of the Followers- rumor had it that he'd been a double agent for a time, before making a mistake that had almost cost Riddle his life. Some wondered if that 'mistake' had been on purpose. Personally, Draco doubted it. He seemed to be the disgustingly loyal type, not one to wriggle away from someone, but wriggle closer and closer until they choked you. Either way, as a punishment Lord Riddle decreed that Wormtail would now only administer the tattoos to new recruits.

Each recruit would get three Marks. The first, placed over the heart and called the Heart Mark, was signifying that your allegiance was now eternally to the Dark Lord, and no one else. It was given the day you swore to serve Riddle. The second, placed on the back of the neck and named the Speech Mark, signified that your every thought and spoken word belonged to Riddle. It was given after a month of training. The third, known as the Final Mark, took up almost the entire left forearm. Instead of a tattoo, it was branded into your flesh, marking you forever. It showed that every part of you- your body (the third Mark) your mind (the second) and your soul (the first) belong to Tom Riddle forever.

Draco got the Heart Mark at the age of seven, making him officially the youngest of the Followers. From that point on, his childhood was over. The next eleven years were spent turning him into the perfect Follower of Lord Riddle. When he turned thirteen, he recieved the Speech Mark. Then, there came years of mental training and conditioning, during which he learned how to think and speak, and eventually the mask he'd used as a small child became the only thing he knew.

But on his eighteenth birthday, when he was to get the Final Mark, something seemed to break in him.

 _Lucius licked his lips. "Draco… there is something about the ceremony that I have not told you. My Lord will likely punish me for it, but I am weak, and could not seem to tell you."_

 _"What are you talking about?" Draco said, an actual emotion- confusion- leaking into his words. "What haven't you told me?"_

 _His father hesitated, looking for an instant like he was genuinely afraid, before his mask became colder than ever. "After the Final Mark is placed on you arm, the Dark Lord will require you to prove your allegiance by removing another piece of scum from the world."_

 _Draco blinked in astonishment. "You… you're telling me that I'm going to have to kill a Mudblood?"_

 _Lucius coughed. "Yes."_

Mudblood.

It was the name they'd given all those deemed less than 'pure,' those of different races. Draco didn't like the name very much, deep down, but he knew nothing else to call them. They had always been Mudbloods, and who was he to hate the name they'd been given?

 _"Oh." Draco said, and though a tiny voice in his head was screaming at him that this was wrong, the rest of him was excited by the prospect. "Why would you be scared to tell me something like that? I've been waiting to make my first kill for my Lord for years now."_

 _The muscles in his father's face visibly relaxed. "I am relieved. Lord Riddle will be pleased indeed to have you in service."_

 _Draco smirked. "Not as pleased as I will be to be in his service in the first place." But deep down, the tiny voice continued to scream, and as soon as Lucius turned away, the smirk faltered._

To Draco, his body was constantly at war. Most of him, the part that was obedient to the wishes of his Lord, loved the name. That part loved the idea of removing the scum from the earth, and was perfectly happy to never have an original thought in his life. Most of the time, this part of him was at the surface, and was much more powerful, strangling the life out of the weaker, rebellious side. But deep in his soul, the thought that everyone was the same, really, that killing was wrong no matter who it was, that individuality and freedom were good things, continued to live, if not thrive, and hold out against the wave of darkness.

Deep down, Draco knew that if he'd let himself kill that poor woman at the ceremony, that tiny light would have been extinguished, and he'd have lost himself completely. He was therefore incredibly grateful that he'd been able to see reason before it was too late.

 _At the ceremony, Draco was placed in the center of a circle, Followers on all sides. He wore long black robes with silver trim, and the dim lighting of the ancient stone room made his face and hair have an almost unearthly glow. On his face was an elaborate makeup set up that made his face appear to be a skull. It was itchy and hot, and he wished he didn't have to wear it._

 _Oddly, Lord Riddle was not attending the ceremony. He had 'other things to do,' according to his right-hand-man, a tall fellow with greasy black hair named Severus Snape. Draco didn't question it. He didn't want to see Riddle again if he could help it._

After that night, Draco had never seen Tom Riddle again in person, although there was the occasional message transcribed by Snape and sent via messenger, usually some lower-level bloke like Yaxley or Dolohov.

They were almost always the same; a list of things that Lucius should teach Draco over the next year, and then a reminder to the boy himself that he, Riddle, was his master now.

Draco never liked the messages.

 _After he was surrounded on all sides, Severus Snape stepped forward. By his side was his aunt, Bellatriz Lestrange. It was common knowledge that she was madly in love with Lord Riddle, and that he favored her. That fact, along with the knowledge that she was also completely insane, made everyone leave her alone if they could help it. "Draco Lucius Malfoy." Said Snape in a voice that clearly announced his inner sneer. "Step forward."_

 _Draco did, his face blank and his eyes darker than usual._

 _"You have been pledged to our Lord Riddle since you were a boy, correct?"_

 _"Yes, sir."_

 _"And now that you are coming of age, you are ready to give yourself fully into his service?"_

 _"Yes, sir."_

 _Snape nodded in approval. "Wormtail. Bring the iron."_

 _Wormtail muttered praises up to Snape, grovelling, before scuttling over to the fire, where a branding iron in the shape of the Dark Mark was red hot from the flames. He picked it up and brought it over, a slight manic glint in his eye._

 _"Present your arm." Snape sneered._

As though it could sense the memory, Draco's left forearm stabbed with pain. Looking around the train, making sure that no one was currently watching him, he turned to the window and gently pushed up his left shirtsleeve.

The Final Mark glared up at him, raw and angry, not quite turned black yet. He pushed down his sleeve unhappily, and then made sure that the collared shirt he was currently wearing covered the Speech Mark on his neck. Thankfully the shirt he'd worn under the robes at the ceremony had a high enough collar.

He'd willingly accepted the Final Mark, and he hadn't even screamed- raising the tolerance to pain was one of the things he'd worked on- but the moment he'd seen her, innocent, just wanting to go home to her family, he'd felt his good side surge up within him, and he just couldn't do it.

 _The pain was agonizing, blinding, but he did not scream. He'd been tought never to scream. After the scent of burning flesh began to cease, he straightened and let the sleeve of his robes (and his shirt he was wearing underneath) fall down onto the Mark. It stung where it touched the raw burn, but he didn't let himself flinch._

 _"And now, to complete the ceremony, the blood of a Mudblood will be spilled. You will come to find, Draco, that despite the name, their blood is red, not brown." Snape said, the same smirk he almost always wore still plastered to his face._

 _A woman was dragged forward, kicking and screaming. She was in her early thirties, and appeared to be of Indian descent. She was quite beautiful, with her large dark eyes and smooth skin. "No!" She cried. "No, no, please, I have a family, I have children, don't kill me! I'll give you money, whatever you want, just please don't kill me!"_

 _Draco was given a knife. A knife. Not a gun, with which he could shoot her in a place where she might live and blame it on bad aim (despite the fact he was the best shot in all the Followers, except for his Aunt Bellatrix). No, a knife, which made it personal, which meant he would have to slit her throat and watch her blood pool._

 _And the thought of killing this woman, who just wanted to get back to her children, sickened Draco. And the fact that it sickened him made him more scared than he'd ever been before in his life._

Honestly, Draco wished he'd just dropped the knife and sprinted out of the circle.

He wished that he hadn't stood there, staring at her.

He wished that his father hadn't come up to try and convince him to do it already, to just get on with it so they could go to bed, like he was completing a homework assignment.

He wished that he hadn't been so afraid that the only thing he could think of to do was to stab his own father.

 _He wasn't sure how long he hesitated before Lucius came up to him, looking more nervous that he'd ever seen him before. He licked his lips and leaned in close, whispering right into his son's ear._

 _"Draco, listen to me, it's just a Mudblood. Just cut her throat, and it'll be very quick. Then we can go home and make you a cup of tea and enjoy the rest of your birthday. Okay? We can rest for a while and forget this mess, so just kill her."_

 _For some reason, his body decided to move. One moment he was listening to his father, and the next he was spinning around and plunging the knife deep into his father's stomach. Lucius Malfoy coughed, and Draco realized that there was blood on his lips. Then the man sank to the floor, a stunned and betrayed expression on his face._

 _There was silence for a long moment. Then his Aunt Bellatrix let out a screech of rage, and raised a gun. Draco knew in that instant that he had to get out of this place, and never come back. He dodged the bullet, though he didn't know how, and grabbed the knife from his father's fallen body, and prepared to fight his way out._

And he had. He honestly wasn't sure how long it took, nor how many Followers he'd injured. He didn't even know if his father had lived or died. All he knew was that at some point they let him run, and he ran all the way across the city until he found a train station. Once there, he booked a ticket for the farthest place from London he could find using his credit card his family had given him, thrown away the black robes, and climbed onto the train.

It had been hours since the ceremony ended in disaster, and Draco still couldn't quite believe what had happened. So many things could have changed the outcome of events. Had his father not come up, he probably would have either killed her or run. Had his mother come up, would he have stabbed her? If he hadn't hesitated, would that have spelled the death of his conscience? And most importantly, if the only thing different had been the presence of Tom Riddle, would the outcome have changed?

Yes, he knew. If his Lord had been there, that woman would have been bleeding out on the stone the moment the knife was set in his hand. That woman, the Mudblood, would have been the one he murdered, instead of his own father…

 _Draco didn't think. He couldn't. He simply lashed out, cutting whoever was in reach, and trying not to wince every time a blow of someone else's landed. At some point, though, he was right by the door. He looked back for a moment, and saw that they were letting him go, almost as though they'd been ordered to, and then he just ran._

 _He ran and ran and ran, tripping over his feet, wiping the skull makeup off his face (it was ruined from all the blood, anyway), falling into the mud whenever he decided he wasn't going fast enough. Through the busy city streets he ran, ignoring the strange looks, ignoring the shouts of anger every time he bumped into someone, simply focusing on the all-comsuming need to get out of London, to get away, to go as far from this place as he could possibly go._

Draco felt dizzy, and a little sick, the memories and the Mark and the knife wounds combining into one migraine of enormous proportions. He rubbed the Heart Mark unconsciously, wishing it would be gone forever. He wished that he could become that happy, innocent boy again, the one that laughed and smiled and lit up the world.

He'd become a monster over the years, and it made him sick.

If magic were real, or time travel, then he'd go back in time and change everything. He'd find a way to save his childhood. He'd find a route through his life where he didn't hurt or kill his father. He'd find the place where they could be a happy, normal family, instead of one involved in this deadly game.

 _When he reached the train station, he stumbled up to the counter, where a middle aged woman was staring at him with a truly horrified expression. He realized he was covered in blood, and figured she probably thought he'd killed someone. Vaguely, he realized that he might have. He hoped she wouldn't call the police._

 _"I need to get as far away from London as I can." He said, trying to sound as though he wasn't running away from something._

 _The woman's eyes narrowed. "Why? You didn't kill someone, did you?"_

 _"No." Draco lied. "My father owed this man some money, and he came and… and killed him, right in front of me. This isn't my blood. I need to get out before he kills me, too." He did his best to convey the emotions he imagined such a boy would be feeling. Fear, confusion, desperation— of course, he really was feeling these emotions currently, which made the whole thing easier._

 _Even as he watched, the suspicion in her eyes melted away. "Of course, you poor thing. Let me see… the best thing I can see would be Hogsmeade. It's up in Scotland. There's a private university there, Hogwarts. My son Dean goes there, it's very nice."_

 _Draco felt his face slide in relief. "That sounds great. Thank you. I, uh- I have my credit card, I think—" he did, he never left the manor without his wallet on him, and being fairly rich he was never hurting for money._

 _The woman shook her head firmly. "Oh, no, dear. I could never do that. I'll buy it myself. And I'll get you first class, too— no, don't tell me otherwise. You've gotten a terrible shock, and I won't leave you without something."_

 _Feeling a tad guilty about his lies, Draco thanked her and ran to catch his train. He had enough time to throw out his robes, and then got on, wishing he'd thought to clean some of the blood off his face before climbing on board._

He hoped that whatever Hogsmeade- and perhaps Hogwarts- had in store for him, no one would be able to find him. If Riddle and the Followers found him, they'd kill him in a heartbeat. He'd been told hundreds of times that there was no use for betrayers in the Followers.

One thing was for sure- he couldn't stay Draco Malfoy while he was there. The Malfoy name was becoming more and more famous, and while he doubted that northern Scotland had heard of the Death Eaters yet, he couldn't take the chance.

Draco thought about what to do. His mother's maiden name, Black, would do for a last name. The Black family, though famous in the past, had fallen out of the limelight not long after his father's marraige to his mother. It would be safe to use the name there. As for the rest of his name, he couldn't use Draco for his first name. He couldn't risk word getting out that Draco Malfoy was wanted for murder. Draco wasn't a very common name, after all.

He thought maybe Hyperion. His mother had said once that if she'd had another son, he would have wanted to call him Hyperion. Well, he felt that this was his chance to become the son she'd always wanted but never gotten.

Hyperion Draco Black.

A new name for a new life.

 **Hey, guys, Author here!**

 **So here's Mafiafoy chapter one! I'm really excited for this story (my first full length HP fic EVER), and I hope I do well with it.**

 **Since I thankfully get to keep my computer over the summer, there should still be some updates, but I WILL be gone from June 23rd to like July 22nd. With no computer OR Internet, or even a phone. Sorry, but nothing I can do.**

 **But I'll be here all of August and early June, so hopefully I'll keep writing then.**

 **Sorry for the long and boring author's note...**

 **Please comment and let me know what you think about my story, now that the plot is becoming more clear.**

 **Love,**

 **Trellya**

 **(for those who don't know, that's not my real name)**


	3. Chapter Two: Family at Hogsmeade

Chapter Two: Family at Hogsmeade

After several hours of boring, miserable train ride during which Draco Malfoy continued to struggle with his guilt, there was only one other person in his car. At some point he'd gone to the bathroom and washed his face, getting rid of as much blood as he could, so the boy wasn't looking at him as though he were some evil, insane psychopath, like most people had for the majority of the ride.

At some point, Draco looked over and realized that the boy had sat down next to him. He was thin, and fairly tall, with messy black hair and bright green eyes. His bangs, which were very long, completely covered his forehead. Around his eyes he wore a slightly too-small pair of wire-rimmed glasses. His clothes were a bit too big for him, and showed a fair amount of wear and tear.

"Hello." Said the boy, a little nervously. He seemed to be about Draco's age.

Draco smiled back, unsure if it was reaching his eyes or not. He never really smiled anymore. "Hello."

The black-haired boy held out his hand. "Harry Potter. You going to Hogwarts too?"

"Hyperion Black." Draco said, thinking to himself how odd the name felt on his lips. On impulse, continued. "But you can call me Draco. It's my middle name." He said by means of explanation. "Hyperion sounds just a little too stuck up. Not that 'Draco' is much better."He took the boy's hand and shook it firmly.

Harry chuckled a little, and pushed his glasses up onto his nose, even though they hadn't slipped. It was almost like a nervous tic, an unconscious habit. "I don't think that Hyperion is too bad. It's more interesting than 'Harry,' at least. Do you know how common a boring name like Harry Potter is? It's terrible. I'd prefer Hyperion any day, stuck up or no."

Draco decided that he quite liked this boy. He was friendly, and genuine, and he had a feeling that he would be a very loyal friend. "So, you said you're going to Hogwarts? That's the university in Hogsmeade, right?"

"Yeah." Harry said, sitting back in his seat and allowing himself to get comfortable. "Judging from your answer, I'd guess you're not. So what're you doing in a middle-of-nowhere town like Hogsmeade, if you're not going to Hogwarts? Do you have family there, or something?"

Draco laughed a little, and shook his head sadly. "Not that I know of. I'm… just trying to escape London. If I stayed there any longer…" He shuddered at the thought of what Riddle would command his Followers to do if they ever found him again.

Harry frowned. "Okay, so what happened? Judging from what clothes you're wearing, you're no stranger to money, and judging from the blood on your shirt collar, you're trying to escape _someone_ in London, not just the city itself. So please- spill. I'd like to make sure there's not a psychopath in here with me, thank you very much."

His respect for the boy next to him grew exponentially. Clearly, Harry Potter, who ever he was, was no idiot. He decided that he'd have to tell him something. The only problem was that he couldn't tell the truth, even though he desperately wanted to. He longed to get this storm of guilt and fear off his chest, but if he told, Harry could turn on him, or the truth could put him in danger if he was ever found. No, he couldn't risk it. He'd have to lie.

"My family is- was- pretty well off. My father was a banker, and my mother inherited a lot of money after her parents died." This was true. His grandparents had died when he was three, leaving the Malfoys with an even more enormous amount of money than before. "I was raised being told that I was destined to follow my father's footsteps." This was also true, though his implication that he was supposed to follow his father in banking was not the case. "Not long ago, though, I learned the truth about my father's business." This was also true, to a point. He'd learned that he was going to have to kill someone. "He'd been supporting these… shady organizations, these groups that went around, dealing weapons and killing people who disagreed with them. And apparently… he owed one of these groups a lot of money."

And here came the lies. They felt like poison in his throat, Draco had been taught never to lie, but he had to tell them. "My father had denied them their money, because his business was beginning to fail. And so they showed up, and they threatened him. We were having tea. We… we tried to reason with them, telling them that they would get their money in time." He hated lying so, so much. "They killed my father right next to me. That's where this came from." He pointed to the spots of blood on his collar. In honesty, he wasn't sure who the blood belonged to. That simple fact made him feel sick inside. "Then they killed my mother. I was told to run away, or they would kil me too. I chose Hogsmeade, because it was about as far from London as I could get by train. I just… I don't want to die." By the end, his voice was very small, and he felt very young and scared. It was true. He really, really, didn't want to die.

For a while, the two young men stayed silent, and it was clear that Harry wasn't quite sure what to say. He shoved his glasses further up his nose again, though they were still no further down than when he'd last pushed them up. His face looked suddenly nervous, and he looked down at his hands. "My parents are dead, too."

Instantly, guilt at his lies came and flooded his heart. He turned away for a moment, letting the pain engulf him for a single moment before turning back. "Jesus Christ. Really? I'm sorry."

"Nah, it's okay. I was only one when it happened. I don't remember them, not really. Everything I know was told to me by my aunt and uncle. They're not too fond of me- they were thrilled when I told them I'd been accepted at this far-away private university, and even more so when I told them I'd gotten a scholarship, so the cost was reduced." Harry was rambling, his hands pulling at a loose string in his shirt as he spoke. Draco felt a stab of pity for the boy, then shoved it away. The last thing he needed was pity- pity never helped anyone, least of all the person who was being pitied.

Draco hesitated before speaking. "What is it that you know?"

"They were murdered. Somehow, they'd offended this psychopath or something, and he burst into our house on Halloween and killed them both. My dad tried to fight him with his bare hands— it was horrible. My mother died protecting me." He paused, and something flashed behind his eyes. In that moment, Draco knew that Harry Potter remembered more than he let on. He remembered that night on Halloween what must have been seventeen years ago. He remembered his mother being murdered. "And then someone came- I don't know who, or how many, but something made him leave. But… not before he gave me this."

Slowly, with a shaking hand, Harry lifted his bangs, revealing a small scar on his forehead in the shape of lightning. "Why would he give that to you, if he didn't kill you?" Draco asked, trying to keep the curiosity out of his voice.

Harry grimaced. "I don't know, but my personal opinion is that it's a promise that one day he'll find me, come back, and finish the job." To his surprise, the black-haired boy shurgged, and let his bangs fall. "But until that happens, I'm going to live like he won't. No point living my life in fear over something I don't know for sure, right?"

Draco smiled, but this time he knew for certain that it didn't affect his eyes. "Right." He said, and he turned to look out the window.

About half an hour later, during which the two boys had sat in silence, digesting the stories they had shared with the other, the train slowed to a halt, and a automated message sounded. "This is the final stop. Please gather your luggage and make your way off the train. Thank you."

Harry jumped to his feet, his face filled with excitement. "C'mon, Draco!" He threw out the name casually, as if they'd known each other for years. Draco felt a swell of affection for the other boy. He had mentioned his name once, and mentioned his preferred 'nickname' only once, and yet Harry had remembered, and had clearly decided they were friends. Draco had never had a friend before.

He followed the young man down to where the luggage was held, and watched as he pulled out a truly enormous trunk. Harry turned around, noticed Draco had no trunk or luggage of any kind, and frowned. "What about your- oh, right. Sorry." He winced, and looked suddenly guilty.

"No, it's fine." Draco insisted. "I'll be fine. I've got a little money, I should be able to get along well enough until I get a job. You don't need to worry about me." Deep down, he wanted someone to worry about him. He wanted someone to care, he wanted a friend, and he wanted Harry to be that friend.

Harry stood there, looking incredibly conflicted. He opened his mouth to speak, and Draco felt hope rise in the pit of his stomach— when they were interrupted by a booming voice.

"'Ello? Anyone in there? Got instructions from Dumbledore ter take a Mr. 'Arry Potter up ter Hogwarts." The voice was loud and gruff, and clearly unrefined. Glancing at each other apprehensively, the two boys darted out of the train, and came face-to-face with an enormous man, nearly seven feet tall and very bulky. Most of the features of his face were hidden by his enormous bushy beard, but his brightly shining eyes were clear. Once he laid eyes on the two, he grinned. "Ah, 'ello! Yeh must be 'Arry– yeh look just like yer father, but yeh have yer mother's eyes." Then the man's eyes shifted to Draco, and he winced. "But who're you? Yer not on my list."

"My name's Hyperion Black. I'm not here to attend Hogwarts, not unless you'll take me. I just need someplace to stay, and a place to work… please." Tears prickled in his eyes, but Draco tried to ignore them. He never cried, let alone in front of a stranger who looked like he could rip someone limb from limb without a second thought.

The hard eyes softened. "Yeh've got nowhere ter go? Well, Dumbledore's never been one ter let kids stay out in the cold. Come with me and 'Arry to Hogwarts. I'll see to it yeh get in." He straightened his shabby, filthy suit, and held out his hand for Harry's trunk. "Come on, yeh two. It'll be dark soon." He pulled out a flashlight from his suit pocket, and glaced at the two boys with a smile. "Don't worry. It'll all be fine."

Draco wished that he could believe that.

"M'name's Rubeus Hagrid, and I'm the caretaker of the grounds at 'Ogwarts. You can call me Hagrid, though. Everyone does." The man seemed to be cheerful, and the type that took pleasure in the simple facts of life. Despite this, it was clear that Rubeus Hagrid was no fool. Draco was sure he could hold his own in a test of wits.

Harry glanced between Hagrid and Draco, looking nervous. "And you're sure that this Dumbledore bloke won't… I dunno, send him back to London, or anything?" He pulled on the loose string in his shirt again, and then tried to flatten his hair (Draco wasn't even sure why he attempted, it simply popped back up again). Why did he care so much about a boy covered in blood who lied about everything in his past, and one who he hardly knew? It made absolutely no sense.

"'Course I'm sure!" Hagrid said, sounding almost offended by the thought. "Dumbledore's the best man I know, he'd never send a potential student in need back ter someplace where they've got trouble." He hesitated. "'Sides, that's what he did with me. Not a lick o' money, not a family ter go back to. Should'a thrown me out, but he let me stay. I owe him a lot, Dumbledore."

For a little while, the trio walked in silence. Eventually, the big man stopped in his tracks. "Yeh said yer name's Black? Wouldn't happen to be a relation of Sirius Black, would yeh?"

Draco's blood ran cold. He'd never met the 'Black Sheep' of the Black family, but he'd heard plenty of the stories. Apparently, he'd ended up in prison at some point, but for doing what he wasn't sure. All he knew was that he abosultely hated everyone in his family, and had done all sorts of terrible things to prove it. Should he tell Hagrid the truth, or let yet another lie bind him?

"Actually, yes. He's a distant cousin of mine." Finally, the truth. "I've never met him though." He hated his family too, really.

Hagrid's face brightened. "Well, then! I can leave yeh at his house here, and then I can go talk ter Dumble-"

"Wait." Draco said, his eyes wide. "He's _here_? I'd heard that he was in prison!"

The giant man snorted, and shifted the flashlight to his other hand. It was quite dark, and so it was difficult to see the grounds, but he could tell that they were very well kept. "Nah, he got out a couple'o years ago. Some new evidence surfaced, and- well, not my place to say, really. Yeh can ask 'im yerself. He lives just over here."

Draco and Harry followed, a little nervous. Harry leaned over and whispered, "Are you sure about this?" to Draco with wide eyes.

All Draco could do was force himself to smile, showing his teeth in a way he rarely did. "Oh, yeah. My mum told me stories about him all the time. He'll be fine." Deep down, he was thinking about how all he wanted was to not be horribly murdered by a man who he'd been constantly informed was extrememly unstable. So, despite his reassuring smile, the silent 'I hope' in his w0rds was enough to make Harry push his glasses violently up his nose.

The house of Sirius Black was small, and a little run-down, but it was cozy. There was an attempt at a flower garden, though the flowers seemed to be a bit neglected. Despite himself, Draco found that he really liked the place. Hagrid knocked heavily on the door. A moment later, the frantic barking of a large dog sounded, and then they heard the scuttling of paws on hard flooring, and then angry shouting from a man with a hoarse voice. After that, the door opened, revealing a thin, pale man with shoulder-length black hair, the beginnings of a beard, and dark eyes.

"Hagrid? What the fuck are you doing here in the middle of the night?" Sirius growled, looking tired and thoroughly unamused. Suddenly, an enormous black dog burst out of the house, jumping all over the three of them and licking them happily. Sirius' face twisted into one of annoyance. "Damnit, Snuffles, I said _no_!" The dog slunk back, whining sadly. "Well?"

At that moment, he noticed the two boys standing behind the groundskeeper. His eyes fell on Harry first. They widened. "Is that-"

"Yea, that's Harry. But that's not why I'm here." Hagrid growled, grabbing Draco by the shoulder and dragging him forward. "This boy here says he's a cousin of yers. Er- what's yer name again?"

Draco stared pleadingly at Sirius, begging him not to react. "Hyperion Black. Hyperion Draco Black. But I go by Draco." The man's eyes narrowed, but then, seeing the desperation in his eyes, relaxed them, and let a convincing (though almost certainly faked) smile cross his face.

"Oh, of course! Draco!" He grabbed him from Hagrid, and ruffled his hair. Draco tried not to grimace. "No wonder I didn't recognize you, last time I even got a picture of you in the mail you were a little kid! I'm assuming you want me to keep him overnight?" He added, glancing up at Hagrid for confirmation. The big man simply nodded. "Alright then. Come on in, Mr. _Black_."

Draco turned to Harry, who looked much calmer now that it appeared his new friend would be alright. "See you soon?"

"Yeah." Said Harry, his body relaxing further. "Yeah. See you."

The two Blacks watched as the student and the caretaker walked away, before heading inside the house. As soon as the door shut, the smile on Sirius' face vanished, replaced with a suspicious snarl. He backed the blonde boy into a wall, and glared down on him. "You better tell me right now why the fuck Lucius Malfoy's precious son is in my house, or I promise, I will kill you and make it look like an accident."

Draco shrunk in on himself, fear filling his chest. "I'm not here to spy or hurt you, or anything, I promise! I didn't even know you lived here. I just needed to escape London, escape _him,_ and this is about as far away from London as you can get."

The hostility in his eyes faded a bit, and he backed up a little, giving him room to breathe. "Escape? What could Tom Riddle's perfect servant have possibly done to warrant a flee to the opposite end of the country?" He sat down on a comfortable-looking armchair, and pointed to the couch across from him. "Well? Sit down."

He did so, despite the uncomfortable feeling that he was being interrogated. Once he had gotten comfortable, Sirius cast a piercing stare over him, and finally spoke. "Last I'd heard, the completion of your initiation was to take place on the night before your bithday- yesterday, to be exact. So, tell me; what did you do that made you run for your life?"

Draco winced at the harsh wording, and then began. "When I got there, they started by branding me with the Final Mark." He raised his sleeve, revealing the swollen red skin around the rapidly darkening Mark. "So even though I didn't go through with the ceremony, I am scarred forever."

"You didn't do it?" Black said in surprise.

"What?"

He sighed in annoyance, and the black dog, Snuffles, shoved his face under his master's hand. "You didn't kill the poor bloke of some minority that just happened to be wandering about? After the way you were raised?"

He shook his head firmly, and a lump grew in his throat. "No. I couldn't kill her. The moment I saw her, I knew I wouldn't be able to. So I- I just stood there, staring, and she just cried and cried… And then my father came up, since he saw I couldn't do it. He said to just get it over with, and then we could go home and celebrate my birthday…" He paused, feeling the tears burn in his eyes. "And then I stabbed him."

"You _what_?!" Siruis said, getting to his feet in shock. "Christ above, boy, I'm impressed! I'd never have guessed a Malfoy would have had the balls." He nodded in approval.

But Draco simply shook his head. "That's not all."

"No?" He raised an eyebrow.

"No. Aunt Bellatrix shot at me,-"

"Surprise, surpise." Sirius growled.

He continued. "-and then I panicked. I tried to run, but of course they tried to stop me. My reaction was to fight my way out of the circle, run to the nearest train station, and get as far away from London as I could. If I go back, there's no way L- Riddle won't find me, and kill me. After all, I've wounded- maybe killed- dozens of his most loyal followers."

Black let out a bark of dog-like laughter. "Dozens? I must say, Malfoy, I'm a little impressed. Not only did you go against orders, but you went completely beserk, and proceeded to cause enough damage that some of the bastard's plans will probably be set back!" He paused, and stared at the boy. "You are officially my favorite family member."

Draco snorted. "I'm not so sure if that's a compliment."'

Sirius laughed again. "You're really a lot more like Narcissa than Lucius, aren't you? Well, then, it's rather unfortunate that you so much like that ferretty coward." He got to his feet and headed for the kitchen, Snuffles the dog at his heels. "You want some tea? You could probably use a good pick-me-up."

Relief flooded the boy. Tea. Yes, that would help. When he was a little boy, and he was still learning the rules of the Followers, his mother would make him tea to help him relax. He never once had to ask her- she always knew, and she always knew what kind of tea to make. "Yes, please." He said, and he realized he was already more relaxed and happier.

Sirius noticed and smiled. "Narcissa took good care of you, didn't she?" Draco didn't say anything, simply stared at his hands. "When we were young, she'd make me tea after I got into another fight with my parents. She was over all the time, she and Reggy were real close, but once the shouting quieted she'd come down and make me tea. She was always one of my favorites as a kid." His face darkened. "Until she fell in love with _him_. No offfense." He added awkwardly.

Draco simply shrugged. The comment about his father bothered him, but he was letting his mind be more occupied with the thoughts of his mother and Sirius as children, comforting each other. He knew that she made the tea as a way to soothe herself almost more so than a way to soothe the person for whom the tea was made. Whether Sirius knew this or not, Draco had no clue. "She hated that my father made me join." He said suddenly. "She _hated_ it. So whenever she saw I was stressed out, she'd make me some tea. We wouldn't talk or anything, we'd just sit and drink our tea. I… I miss her. Do you think she hates me now, for what I've done?"

Sirius blinked, in surprise, and turned away, filling the kettle and placing it on the stove with a small klunk. He clicked the oven on, and moved back to where his young cousin was sitting, his face full of worry. "Hates you? No, I don't. But she's probably angry as hell."

Draco stared. "You're terrible at comforting people."

"You didn't ask me to comfort you." He said with a shrug, leaning back in his armchair, looking perfectly calm and comfortable. At his feet, Snuffles was curled up. He appeared to be falling asleep. "You _asked_ me if your mother hates you. I told you what I thought."

Draco bit his lip. "I just don't see how 'angry as hell' doesn't mean she hates me."

Sirius shrugged. "From what you've told me, it sounds like Cissy is a pretty good mother. And from my experience, good mothers could never hate their children. They'll get very angry for a time, but deep down, there's still love. She doesn't hate you, I'm sure of it." He said, looking as though they were talking about something as inconsequential as the weather. "But, like I said, she's almost certainly epically pissed off at you for stabbing her husband and attacking her friends. You satisfied?"

The blonde boy nodded, his eyes filled with a shade less anxiety than before. "Yeah." He hesitated, and watched as Sirius got to his feet to grab the kettle and pour the now-boiling water into their teacups, teabags already at the bottom. "Why'd you go to prison?"

The man paused, kettle in hand. He paused for a painfully long moment, and then continued pouring the water. When he was finished, he shoved the cup harshly toward the boy, and stared at his own angrily. "You know about that, huh?"

Draco winced at the harsh tone of his voice. It was very similar to the tone Sirius had had when he'd first entered the house. He held the cup in his hands, letting the tea steep. "I grew up hearing about the Black Sheep of the Black Family, and how he disgraced everyone by not joining the Followers and ending up in prison. No one ever told me how you got in, or that you ever got out."

"Well, I'm not going to tell you either. Prison was… the worst thing I've ever experienced in my life, especially since I was falsely accused." He shuddered, and took a sip of his tea. Sirius grimaced, and set it back down. "I grabbed the shitty tea. Sorry. You don't have to drink it if you can't stand it."

Draco took a sip, found that the tea was, indeed, terrible, and set his own cup on the table. He digested what Black had said, staring at the tea cup thoughtfully. He'd been falsely accused… but of what, and how long was he in before his release? Draco had no idea, but he didn't want to upset the man further by continuing to pester him with questions. Instead, he decided, he'd apologize. "Sorry." He said abruptly.

"What?"

"I'm sorry for upsetting you. I didn't realize it was such a sore subject." He wished for tea once more, but this time some adequate-tasting tea, especially if it was like the kind his mother always gave him. He didn't know what it was called, but nothing calmed him down faster. He wished that his mother was here. He wished that he hadn't attacked his father, or anyone else. He wished that he'd never been taken into the Followers.

Sirius Black stared at him, and it seemed as though the gruff, foul-mouthed man could see right through him, and see all his wishes and his insecurities. His dark eyes softened. "You didn't know. It's alright." As suddenly as the softness appeared, it vanished. He cleared his throat. "I'd expect that Dumbledore will want to meet with you tomorrow morning and discuss your admission into Hogwarts. I'd suggest telling him the truth."

"What?" Draco said, the blood draining from his face. "No! How do I know he won't turn on me, or-"

" _Calm down_." Sirius said with a sigh. "Out of anyone at Hogwarts, the one man you can be sure to trust is Dumbledore. He will do anything to protect a student in trouble, especially if he knows the truth about them. Besides, you could never lie to that man."

Draco shook his head. "I still don't know—"

Sirius threw up his hands in exhasperation. "Okay. How about this- I'll tell you everyone that I'd trust to save my life if need be. Those people you won't need to worry about finding out, because they won't care. Yes?"

"Yes." He conceded, mainly to appease his cousin.

Sirius nodded approvingly, and leaned back. "So. Dumbledore, number one, I'd trust him with anything, and I do. After that… Minerva McGonagall. She's a litte intimidating at first, but once you get on her good side she treats you as though you're her own children. She teaches Chemistry up at the school- insanely difficult. After that, Hagrid. He's a little simple-minded, but he's got a good heart. And then, of course, I'd have to say Remus Lupin. He's one of my best friends, and he just got a job teaching Language up at Hogwarts."

Draco wasn't entirely sure if he could trust Sirius' opinion, but he figured that he'd be able to scope these people out for himself soon enough. If he couldn't trust them, he'd know very quickly. He'd been taught to read people in his training, and he was excellent at it. "Thanks." He said. Even if he decided not to trust these people after all, he appreciated that Sirius cared enough about his peace of mind to give him a list in the first place.

"You're welcome." Sirius said, reacing down to pet Snuffles. "I'd get to bed, if I were you. Could be a really long day tomorrow, and you've had a hell of a time today."

Draco nodded, and stood up. "Really," he insisted, "thanks. I… I don't really deserve all you've done for me tonight. I'm in your debt."

Sirius frowned, and stood up. Snuffles whined in disappointment, and got up. "Draco Lucius Malfoy, you might not think so, but you are a good man, and you deserve all the good in the world. And, as my new favorite family member, you don't owe me a thing except an occasional visit." He was smiling, actually smiling at him, and he ruffled the boy's hair. However, this time it was with genuine affection. "And if you decide to bring your friends along, they're perfecly welcome. Now get off to sleep. You can have my bed."

And so Draco found himself sleeping in Sirius Black's bed, his mind at ease, and his body relaxed. He almost felt happy. As he drifted off, he found himself thinking that maybe, just maybe, he'd be able to find a new life here after all.

 **Hey, guys, Author here!**

 **Here's your next chapter! This one's a bit longer, which is good.**

 **Honestly, I was surprised when Sirius turned up. He wasn't in my original plan, but he just showed up, and one doesn't turn away Sirius Black. Sorry for his foul mouth, but let's be honest, Sirius would swear a lot in this universe. Especially knowing what I know. (wink)**

 **Let me know what you think! I love to hear from you!**

 **Love,**

 **Trellya 3**


	4. Chapter Three: The List Evaluated

Chapter Three: The List Evaluated

When Draco woke up, he immediately sensed the man sitting in the room with him. Draco honestly didn't know how, but he could just _tell,_ and he let his instincts take over. He pulled a knife out of his belt- _the_ knife, the one from the initiation, that he'd kept in case they'd found him- and sat up, holding the knife out in front of him, preparing to slit the throat of whoever had invaded his room while he slept.

"My, my, Lucius taught you well." As Draco's eyes focused, he realized that the intruder was an old man, probably in his seventies or eighties, sitting on an uncomfortable-looking chair next to the bed. He had a neatly trimmed white beard and white hair that fell down to his shoulders, and a wrinkled face that was turned up in an amused smile. In general, he appeared to be a kind-looking old man, but his eyes made Draco realize instantly that this was a false assumption. His eyes were a piercing blue, and though his face was smiling, it was clear that the man was scanning Draco and determining if he really was a threat.

Draco cleared his throat, keeping the knife (which, he noted, had spots of dried blood on it) pointed firmly at the man's throat. "Who the fuck are you, and how did you get in my room?" He felt a little guilty about the cursing, he'd been taught not to curse, but that was something from his mother, not his training, and so he rarely followed that particular guideline. He didn't like this man. He didn't like how his face hid his true emotions. This man was dangerous, probably one of the most dangerous men Draco had ever met in his life- and he'd met dozens of dangerous men.

The old man tutted, and his smile widened, even as his eyes grew colder and more calculating. "My name is Albus Dumbledore. I'm sure Sirius told you that I would likely see you today?" He laced his fingers together, and raised an eyebrow in a very passive-aggressive fashion.

 _This_ was Dumbledore? This was the man that Sirius trusted more than any other person at Hogwarts, more, it sounded, than one of his best friends? This old man who wore an admittedly convincing mask of deceit, this old man who stunk of danger and lies? Draco liked him even less than he had before, but he decided to lower the knife. It wouldn't do to kill someone that Sirius cleared liked. "Yes. He didn't mention that you'd be watching me sleep." He snapped, feeling unusually standoff-ish. He was feeling much less hopeless about what was destined to become of him today, and more like his usual, sarcastic self. And his usual self had no patience for old men with a face that didn't match their eyes.

Dumbledore chuckled cheerfully. His eyes flashed with annoyance. "Well, it was only for a few minutes. You woke almost as soon as I sat down. As I said- Lucius taught you very well if you can sense a stranger entering a room while you are fast asleep." His voice was less cheerful now, and was revealing a bit more of the calculating nature that Draco had sensed earlier.

"I don't want to talk about Father." He bit out, forcing away the beginnings of tears stinging his eyes. And he didn't. He was feeling a bit better, and if he thought of his father, he'd inevitably think of how the knife felt in his hands as it slid into his father's flesh, the tiny cough and the blood on his lips, the shock and betrayal in his eyes as he slid to the floor- he gritted his teeth and shoved the thoughts away.

"I see." Dumbledore looked like he had deduced something from this simple sentence, and judging from the glint in his eye, he liked what he'd found. Whether that fact- that this man liked what he'd seen in Draco's eyes- was a good thing for Draco himself, he had no idea. He still hadn't decided if he could trust this man at all. "I guess we shall get down to business, then. Sirius has told me everything that you told him last night concerning the- ehem- initiation, and your escape, and while I understand why you may have chosen this town, I must inquire this- why do you wish to attend Hogwarts, when you could easily find a simple job somewhere in town, and live with Sirius?"

Draco paused, and glanced untrustingly at the man out of the corner of his eye. Why should he tell this man anything about him? A little voice answered him. _Because he's the only one that can give you what will make you happy at last._ He winced, and began to speak. "From the age of seven, I have had no fun, no smiles, no happiness in my life. I- I was supposed to be Riddle's perfect servant, and possibly even be trained to take his place after his death. I'm the perfect human weapon- dead shot, excellent fighter, good at reading people, great at diplomacy- but deep down I knew that there was more to me than that. So… so I ran away, in the hopes that I can be who I really am, and be happy." He hesitated for a moment more, and then finished. "It is my belief that Hogwarts can give me that happiness. It is my second chance."

Even as Draco watched, the hardness and suspicion in Dumbledore's eyes melted away into sympathy and affection. While seeing this made the knot in his heart loosen a bit, it didn't make him like the man any more than he had moments ago. "I'm sure that Mr. Potter will be thrilled to see you in his dorm today, then." The man paused, and Draco felt the X-ray-like feeling of being examined by the head of Hogwarts. "I believe that it is time for you to receive your second chance, Mr. Malfoy."

Maybe this man wasn't _quite_ as bad as he'd thought.

Maybe he _could_ be trusted.

It was several hours later before Draco was actually allowed to go up to Hogwarts. Apparently, he needed to get books and supplies for the school year, as well as some more clothes. He was alright with that bit- he didn't want to see the collar of that damned white shirt ever again- but the buying of schoolbooks was a whole new experience for him. After all, he'd been 'homeschooled' for his entire life; he'd never had to purchase school supplies, they'd always been given to him. He'd never been in a classroom with other people before; he'd always been alone. Hell, he could count the times he'd spoken with a person his age on one hand.

In all, he was terrified of what might happen, and he hoped dearly that Harry would be nearby. He could use some moral support, a friendly face amongst all that was unfamilar and painfully different.

These thoughts consumed Draco during his shopping trip, so he spoke very little to Sirius. Eventually, the man had to actually stop the boy in his tracks in order to get his attention. "Hey. I was asking if you wanted to get lunch. It's been a long time since breakfast, you know? I'm fucking starving."

"Oh." Draco noted the empty, aching feeling in his stomach, and nodded. "Yeah, that sounds good. You know some place good?"

Sirius smirked, and nodded toward a run-down, dirty-looking pub. "Oh, yeah. Hog's Head. Best place in town, even if it's not the cleanest." Seeing the apprehensive look on his cousin's face, Sirius rolled his eyes. "Come on, Aberforth's not going to kill you or anything. He couldn't hurt a fly."

The moment Draco walked in and saw the grey-bearded man with piercing, oddly familar blue eyes, he knew that this man could most _definitely_ hurt a fly, and that he could probably come up with a list of half a dozen ways to hurt the poor insect. He shuddered involuntarily as the blue eyes fixed on him, seeming to scan his very soul. In that moment, he knew who the man was. "Sirius… is this 'Aberforth' bloke Dumbledore's brother, or something?"

Sirius looked extremely impressed. "Fuck. Not many know that, and even fewer figure it out like five bloody seconds after laying eyes on them. Dumbledore was right- they _did_ teach you well."

Draco winced at the words, but at the same time, pleasure that he'd been right filled his stomach. He said nothing as they walked over to the bar and sat down. As it was only lunchtime, the pub was practically empty, and those who were there looked like they rarely left. The barman, Aberforth Dumbledore, set down the glass he was cleaning out with a spectacularly filthy rag and looked apprehensively at Draco. "Who's the blonde blighter?" He said to Sirius.

Sirius rolled his eyes, and leaned forward comfortably. "My cousin. He's alright, Ab. No need to worry about him. I'll have my usual- get one for him, too."

"I'm Hyperion Black." Draco said helpfully. Sirius raised an eyebrow at the alias, but said nothing. "I'm a _distant_ cousin." _That_ part was true, at least.

Aberforth shrugged. "Honestly, mate, I don't give a flying fuck what your name is, as long as you're not a crazy murderer or some shit. Do you want a soda, or water, or what?" He added impatiently, holding up the soda and then pointing to where the water faucet was. Draco pointed to the soda, partially because he'd never had it before, partially because the water that dripped from the faucet looked strangely orange in color, and partially to shut the man up. Ab's words ( _crazy murderer, crazy murderer_ ) echoed in his head, and the guilt was threatening to overwhelm him again.

Draco popped the tab on the can after a few seconds' confusion, and then took a sip, not entirely sure what to expect. A violent onslaught of bubbles was _not_ it. He resisted the urge to spit it out, and forced the drink down his throat. He grimaced. "Christ, that's terrible. Who the fuck thought bubbles in a drink was a good idea?"

Sirius let out his signature bark-like laugh, and slapped his cousin on the back. "See, this is why you're my favorite. Who else would question the carbonation in a can of _soda_?" Draco wasn't sure if he should consider that a compliment or not.

Once their food arrived, two plates of delicious-looking fish and chips that you'd never find looking anywhere near as good in London, Sirius dove in, munching the chips as though there were no tomorrow. After a moment's hesitation, Draco too began to eat, savoring the greasy taste- he rarely had such foods back in London. It was excellent. He grinned. "Now, _this_ ," he said, eyes closed in bliss. " _This_ was an excellent idea."

Aberforth let out an amused chuckle, despite himself. Sirius smirked, and shoved a large portion of piping fish into his mouth. "Great minds think alike, good cousin." His voice was twisted and mangled with his mouth full of fish.

Draco raised an eyebrow. "While I agree with the statement of my _own_ intelligence, I'm not so sure if the statement of _your_ intelligence is as accurate."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Sounded a bit like Lucius there, you did."

"Ugh." Draco said with a shudder. "I'll try to refrain."

"Good idea." Sirius said, all hints of humor gone.

After they finished up lunch, the two of them bid Aberforth farewell. The old grey-bearded man tried not to smile as the two bid him goodbye, but as they left the Hog's Head, Draco decided that he prefered Ab to his brother.

Once shopping was complete, Sirius dropped Draco off at the entrance to Hogwarts. Hogwarts turned out to be inside a great bloody Scottish castle, a truly beautiful building. The goodbye was a little awkward, but none-the-less heartfelt. The disgraced Black turned to his younger cousin, an awkward smile on his face. "You know, if, uh- if it doesn't work out- at Hogwarts, I mean- you're always welcome at my house. Snuffles and I'd be glad to have you."

Draco smiled a little. It had been a long time since someone had actually wanted him around- in fact, it might be the first time. "Well, I'd hope so." He joked, his genuine smile slipping into a crooked smirk. "We both know the two of us are the best in our family."

Sirius laughed, and ruffled the blonde hair affectionately. "You're a good man, Draco Malfoy. Don't you forget that."

Draco flushed, a little embarrassed by the warm words. He didn't quite agree with that statement, but he wasn't about to regect the compliment. If he was a good man in _Sirius's_ eyes, that was all he could ask for. He'd known him for less than a day, but already Draco wanted to be like his cousin. "So are you, Sirius Black."

Sirius snorted. "You don't know the half of what I've done. But that's a story for another day. Make sure you visit me on breaks- maybe even weekends, if you can get permission. You got that? And don't forget that even if the school ends up turning on you for some reason, I know who you really are, and I'll stand by you."

Tears sprung unbidden in his eyes. No one had ever been so honest and loyal to him. He wasn't really sure how to react. "I'll, uh-" He stopped again, and forced the tears out of his eyes as thoroughly as he could. "I'll come as often as I can. And I'll bring Harry, if he wants to come."

"You do that. And any other friends you make, too."

Draco snorted. "I doubt I'll make any other friends."

Sirius smiled gently. "They'd be fools not to be friends with you."

Before Draco could reply to that, they were interrupted by the voice of a brusque Scottish woman in her late fifties or early sixties, with long grey hair pulled back in a tight bun, and wearing a non-revealing emerald green dress that nearly touched the ground. Despite the dress, it was clear that she was not a woman to be messed with. Her grey eyes were hard with discipline, though not unkind. Draco liked her immediately.

"Sirius, if you'd stop dragging on the goodbyes, I'd like to take Mr. _Black_ up to the castle. He's late as it is, and his roommates are anxious for him to arrive." Her voice oozed no-nonsense, but the fondness she held for Sirius was clear even through her cold tone.

Sirius full-on grinned. "Sorry, Minnie, but I had to make sure he'd visit me. It gets lonely with only Snuffles for company, you know?"

'Minnie' scowled, real annoyance in her eyes now. "I do wish you'd show some respect for your former teacher, Mr. Black. I just recently let you call me Minerva- would you like to be stripped of that acheivement?" One dark eyebrow raised threateningly, and the broad grin on the black-haired man's face flickered for a moment involuntarily.

"No, ma'am." His voice was slightly quieter.

Draco was trying not to giggle at the scene before him. He never thought he'd see the day when Sirius Black cowered before a woman as old as Minerva- though she _was_ a full two inches taller than him, which certainly helped in the intimidation factor. "I thought not." She said in a smug voice. "Now, come along, boy." She said sharply to Draco, who jumped in surprise and grabbed his trunk. "I must give you your time table before showing you to your room."

"Bye." Draco said as he was led off, looking over his shoulder for a moment before turning back to watch as the magnificent castle grew larger.

He heard Sirius shout a response, but the words were lost in the wind.

Hogwarts University was founded over five hundred years ago, Minerva McGonagall (for that's who she was) explained on their walk through the maze of stone passages to her office. Its four founders were all nobles with an interest in education who donoted enormous sums of money to get the school up and running. Thanks to this, the school had four 'houses' so the students could have teams amongst itself for its football team (the sport was practically required to watch, it was so popular) and other competitive clubs or groups.

'Houses' were decided through a personality test, and each had a different name from one of the four founders. They did not decide roommates, however- in fact, roommates were decided months before the 'Sorting Test' that occurred the first full day of class. McGonagall herself was head of Gryffindor house, and very proud of it.

Eventually they made their way to her office, where Minerva printed off a times table for him and gave him a map. "It's easy to get lost in this place, so we give a map to all students. All the same, the first week of classes no one is punished for tardiness. After that, however, you will be punished- unless you can prove that it was not your fault. Is that understood?"

Draco nodded numbly. McGonagall nodded, clearly pleased. Suddenly, however, her face softened. She leaned forward, and her eyes were positively gentle. "I thought I'd let you know, Mr. Malfoy, that I know who you are and how you came to be at this school. And I'd like to tell you that I don't give a damn."

Draco blinked surprised at the aging woman's passionate words. She straightened, and she looked both powerful and graceful. "You are a student, and every student deserves the same chance to succeed and be happy as the next. So, I wish you the best of luck in reaching your goal." Her eyes hardened again, and she got to her feet. "Now, come, Mr. Black. Your roommates are waiting for you."

His room was in the top of a tower, at the top of a very high spiral staircase that Draco sensed he'd quickly grow to despise. "Christ, this is high up." He muttered under his breath, his legs aching and his lungs burning. He was in good shape, but that didn't make the climb any less difficult. How Professor McGonagall could make the climb without panting was beyond him.

"Wait until you see the Astronomy tower." She said wryly.

Draco blinked. "We have an Astronomy class?"

She chuckled. "You do. On such short notice we couldn't ask your preference for classes, so we simply put you in all the General Education classes. You can add other courses in later years."

Draco didn't say anything, but he was thrilled. He'd always loved the stars- he was named after some of them, after all. Back in London, there had been very few visible stars, with the smog and what-not, but occasionally Riddle would allow he and his family to visit their other manor-house out in the country, and from there it seemed he could see every star in the sky. Stars were calming to him, they helped him forget the terrible things in his life, and he was happy to have an excuse to watch them.

They passed a series of landings, each leading to what he assumed to be a set of rooms. Once they reached the very top of the tower, he was faced with four heavy wooden doors. "The left two are men's dorms, the right women's." McGonagall explained. "Those two women's rooms are the only two on this side of the castle. Why they designated them on this side is beyond me. The far left door, number one, is yours."

Draco approached the door with some trepidation, and opened it. He was faced with a bright little room, cheerfully decorated with bright paintings, a large window in the bck of the room. Three four poster beds were arranged in an awkward configuration about the room. It was clear that one of them had been hastily brought up, judging by how it didn't quite allign with the other two. Sitting on the bed on the left of the room was a young man about Draco's age with bright red hair and hundreds of freckles. He was quite thin, and appeared to be fairly tall and gangly. His eyes were shockingly blue, and overall he seemed a likeable fellow.

"Hullo." Said the boy, a little awkwardly. "I'm Ron. Ron Weasley. Are you, err, Hyperico, was it?"

"Hyperion." Draco corrected, equally awkwardly. "Hyperion Black. I usually go by Draco, though- it's my middle name." The lie burned his throat, but it sounded truthful. Professor McGonagall was giving him a piercing look, which only added to his feeling of discomfort. "Err, if you're my only roommate, then why are there three-"

Ron laughed. "I'm not your only roommate, mate. Harry's down in the toilet, but he'll be up in a second."

Draco's heart gave a great leap of hope. "Harry? Not… Not Harry _Potter_ , is it? Black hair, glasses?"

Ron blinked, looking a little surprised that this stranger knew who he was talking about. "Yeah, as a matter of fact. How do you know him?" He sounded a bit suspicious now. "You from the same town, or something? Because he didn't mention _any_ friends from his hometown, and-"

Draco interrupted him. "We met on the train here, and talked a while. He seems like a good bloke."

"He is." Ron said with a nod of his head, looking a bit more relaxed.

They were interrupted as Harry came up from the bathroom. It was Harry Potter, the boy who had quite possibly become Draco's first-ever friend. His face lit up as soon as he saw his friend. "Draco! I knew I was getting another roommate, but I didn't think- out of all the rooms in the castle- this is great!"

He came over to the blonde boy and hugged him tightly. Draco wasn't sure how to react to this. He'd gotten very few hugs in his lifetime, and most of those were from his mother. For a moment, he panicked, unsure what to do, trying to decide whether or not he was okay with the situation, before he finally allowed himself to gingerly hug back, hoping it wasn't to soft or too hard or too weird.

Harry released him after a while, and stepped back, looking a little amused. "Not much of a hugger, huh?"

Draco felt his cheeks burn bright red, and suddenly he was stammering. "No… My family's n-not a very, er, _affectionate_ family, uh, well, _weren't_ a very affectionate family, uh-" He sounded like a bumbling idiot, how was this going to give him friends? He felt the first beginnings of tears in the corners of his eyes, but he banished them away.

From the bed, Ron snorted. "We don't bloody care whether or not you like to be hugged, Black. If we're gonna be honest, I don't really enjoy hugs either. It's all good here, understood?" Draco felt a rush of respect for Ron, and decided that they would probably be good friends. The thought made his heart lighter.

"Yeah, seriously, mate." Harry said with a grin, light reflecting off his glasses. "If you're ever uncomfortable with something, just say so, we don't bite."

"Well, not _usually_." Said Ron cheerfully, leaning back on the bed in order to make himself more comfortable. "Sometimes I just can't control myself, you know?"

The three of them were suddenly all laughing. It felt strange to Draco- to laugh with friends was something he'd never experienced before, but it felt _right_. Like something dark in his chest was loosening. He felt like he was becoming more who he could have- _should_ have- been.

They were interrupted by the no-nonsense voice of Professor McGonagall. "Just as a reminder, remember that classes start tomorrow, and that we do not tolerate mischief-makers. Rule-breakers will be punished. I better not hear of any trouble with the three of you, understood?"

"Yes, ma'am." They chorused meekly, all laughter extinguished at once.

"Good." Minerva McGonagall said fiercely, before turning on the spot and traipsing back toward the spiral staircase. She was most definitely not a woman to cross, Draco decided. He wanted to keep on her good side.

As soon as she fell from view, Harry shut the door and collapsed on his own bed. Ron spoke from his own, now sitting up once more. "I dunno about you two, but she terrifies me."

"Agreed." Said Harry with a slight smile.

"Definitely." Draco said. "But I trust her."

Harry looked at Draco, seeming to be a little startled by something he said. "Of course she can be trusted! Why wouldn't she?"

Draco hesitated, trying to think of how to describe his distrust of almost everyone he met, and how that distrust had been with him for as long as he could remember, without actually mentioning his true past. "I don't trust very many people." He finally said. "I don't know why. All my life, instead of people, I've seen threats." Part of this was due to his training, but even before that he would scream whenever he saw a stranger. "So anyone who I trust immediately… well, they're pretty special."

"Do you trust us?" Harry asked, gesturing to himself and Ron. He looked nervous, like he was afraid of rejection, and Draco realized that the black haired boy was just as sensitive as himself.

So, he looked Harry straight in the eye. "Yes." He said. And it was true. He couldn't help but trust Harry and Ron. He felt that they were destined to be friends, and for him, that meant they must be trustworthy. "I can already tell that I can trust you two with my life."

"With your life? Bit dark, isn't it?" Ron said, looking a little confused.

Draco hesitated. "There's a reason I was late for the start of term." He said, knowing that he'd have to tell Ron his lies sooner or later. The redhead looked even more confused, so he continued. "Two nights ago, my parents were murdered right in front of me as we had tea. I had to run for my life… I chose here." He hated lying. He hated that the lies were already starting to become natural on his lips. He hated it.

"Your parents are-"

"Dead, yes." His voice cracked involuntarily. Suddenly all he could see was the knife in his hand as it plunged into his father's stomach, the look of stunned betrayal in his father's eyes, the pain in them as he collapsed to the ground… The ground seemed to swim for a moment. Draco sat down heavily on the open bed, trying to let his vertigo fade so he could stand again. "Sorry." He said quietly. He closed his eyes tightly, the images swimming in his vision even more, and he could see all the people who fell to his knife, see the confusion and the shock, see the blood pooling on the ground, the blood on his shoes, the blood on his shirt, the blood everywhere. He opened his eyes and looked at his hands. They were clean… somehow. He should see blood on them. He _was_ a murderer, after all.

"-okay, mate?" It was Ron, who had apparently gotten up and was sitting on the floor in front of him, trying to call him back to reality.

"What?" Draco said involuntarily, his vision still swimming and his voice embarassingly shaky.

Ron was looking at him with an expression of worry, not pity, and when he noticed the other boy's eyes focusing, he smiled in relief. "There. It'll be okay, Hyp. You've got two new friends who are willing to help you through it, if you'll let us."

Though he was relieved by the words coming from the redhead's mouth, one thing really stuck out to him. "Hyp?"

Ron's ears turned slightly red. "Well, your name _is_ Hyperion, and I thought I'd-"

"I like it." Draco said. And he did. Falling further away from his true name would give him a bit more security, and make this second chance more separate from his real life. No, his _old_ life. _This_ was his real life now.

Harry and Ron both grinned widely. It was easy to see they liked the idea of a nickname more personal to the three of them, instead of the more widely used 'Draco'. "Well, then, Hyp, it's nice to meet you." Ron said cheerfully, sticking out his hand for the blonde boy to shake.

"Nice to meet you too, Ron." Draco said.

A few moments later they were interrupted by a knock at the door. The three exchanged confused glances, before Harry opened the door, revealing a thin, sickly looking man with several long scars across his face. "Hello, boys." He said, smiling thinly. He looked exhausted. "I'm Professor Lupin, and I'm the teacher supervising this tower. I'm required to tell you that if you need anything, you come to me before the Headmaster. But honestly, if you just want to chat, I make a mean cup of tea."

Remus Lupin, Draco thought. The last person on Sirius' list. He trusted him immediately. "Dr- well, Hyperion Draco Black, sir. I'm a distant cousin of Sirius'. He told me you were one of the people he trusted with his life. I can already see why." He held out his hand for the professor to shake.

The tired-looking man shook, suddenly looking intrigued. "A cousin, you say? One he gets along with? That's unheard of. I'll need to get to know you, Mr. Black." He smiled, and suddenly he looked much younger.

"Are you ill or something?" Ron asked curiously.

Harry winced and smacked the boy upside the head, but Lupin only chuckled. "It's alright. My health has… never been the best. My parents took me to Africa when I was a boy, and I caught tuberculosis. I nearly died, and… my lungs have never been the same. I have asthma too, you see, so the climb up can get difficult."

Draco looked curiously at the ran diagonally across his face, and seemed to come from an animal. "What are the scars from?"

Lupin hesitated before speaking. "Believe it or not, a bear. But that's a story for another time. You three can come and visist me whenever you like. What are your names, again?"

"Hyperion Black."

"Ron Weasley."

"Harry Potter."

Lupin froze. "Harry Potter?" He said in a very strange voice. "Son of Lily and James Potter?"

Harry frowned deeply, surprised that this teacher knew him. "Yeah, but how do you know-"

"I was good friends with your parents in school." Lupin explained, a glint of happiness in his eye. "Sirius too, as a matter of fact. Actually, unless I'm quite mistaken, Sirius Black is your godfather. He lives down in Hogsmeade. You should visit him sometime, get to know him. He'd do almost anything for James's son."

Draco felt his jaw drop. Sirius was Harry's godfather?!

"Now," the professor said, straightening, "I must drop into the other three rooms on this floor, and then I can head down. Remember that offer of tea." And then Remus Lupin left the room, leaving the three boys quite speechless.

 **Hey, guys, Author here!**

 **SSOOOOO sorry about the long wait for this chapter, but I was gone from home for a solid month, and then I simply had next-to-nothing in the 'inspiration' department.**

 **Anyway, I'm getting back into the feel of this story, so hopefully chapters will come slightly more regularly.**

 **I love you all! Please review!**

 **Love**

 **Trellya**


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